Relative Safety
by deadliving
Summary: To hide in the realm of fiction is not an assurance of safety when you read. The Happy Tree Friends will learn this lesson quickly. Submit OCs if you dare.
1. Aedd Vingil

**Reading can be torture.**

Mime flips through _Lord of the Flies_, scanning through it. His thumb catches a page, and he begins reading.

"_There isn't anyone to help you. Only me. And I'm the Beast. . . . Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! . . . You knew, didn't you? I'm part of you? Close, close, close! I'm the reason why it's no go? Why things are the way they are_?"

Mime dropped the book. If he was afraid of only this simple book, he could only imagine the terror of reading something else scarier. He shakes at the thought. He glances over at Disco Bear thumbing through _The Picture of Dorian Gray:_

_"If this girl can give a soul to those who have lived without one, if she can create the sense of beauty in people whose lives have been sordid and ugly, if she can strip them of their selfishness and lend them tears for sorrows that are not their own, she is worthy of all your adoration, worthy of the adoration of the world. This marriage is quite right. I did not think so at first, but I admit it now. The gods made Sibyl Vane for you. Without her you are incomplete."_

Disco tossed the book aside. He grunted, "Gays never make good books." He turned to face Cuddles, who was eagerly scanning _Frankenstein. _"Yo, Cuddles, why do we have to read all these horror stories?"

As Cuddles lifts his head to speak, Giggles butts in. "Disco, we are reading for 'Scare to Care'."

Disco looks at Giggles like he's insane. "Scare to Care?"

Giggles sighs. "It is a fund raiser for the Happy Tree Land Disaster Recovery Agency where people read horror books. For every horror book they read, an acorn is donated."

Disco rolls his eyes, "Anything for the children."

"Disco, even Flaky and Lumpy are in the spirit. If you aren't going to contribute, you can leave town for a few days." Giggles barks.

Disco throws up his hands with a cocky smile. "As it's you giving orders, I'll read the damn book." He walks over and picks his book up again. Disco mumbles under his breath, "I hate fiction anyway."

Sniffles lifts his head from his book, and in a smart-alecky tone exclaims, "That's why I'm reading 'The Lucifer Principle'. No fiction. Just cold hard fact."

"Nerd!" Cuddles snickers. Toothy and Disco burst out laughing.

"I should cut off your foot, and sell it to that witch doctor!" Sniffles barks. Cuddles buries his head in Frankenstein instantaneously after the remark.

Flaky, who was too infatuated with her book, _Pet Semetary. _She looks up just after Jud Crandall said, "Sometimes, dead is bettah". She glances up, and everyone looks up from their books. Cuddles glared at her with green eyes, and uttered, "Wendigo"

Flaky jumps up and screams, "What did you say?"

Cuddles shakes his head. "I said do you guys want to go home?" Flaky blushed as she realized that her fright was only her imagination. "...I mean, the library closes soon." Cuddles continues.

Flaky stands up, grabs her bookbag off the chair to the side of her and rushes through the glass doors, panting.

She breathes a sigh of relief, believing once she had gotten away from the library, and stopped reading the horror novel, all her fear would stay with the book.

As you can see, this story is only beginning.

**Yes, this is accepting OCs, but I warn you, they WILL DIE.**

**While I know some of you aren't fazed by the fact, some people are overtly protective of their OCs.**

**Just give basic info and a horror/suspence story you want to be associated with them.**

**Stories already taken:**

**Pet Sematary by Stephen King**

**Mary Shelly's Frankenstein**

**Lord of the Flies by William Golding**

**Christine by Stephen King**

**The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde**

** Dracula by Bram Stoker**

**The Most Dangerous Game on Earth by Richard Edward Connell**

**The Lucifer Principle by Howard Bloom**

**Alright, review, or flame, or what ever.**

**Spawn**


	2. Stoct Niwnet

**The Next chapter will see this story become a crossover, alright? **

**So don't look for it in HTF section.**

**Oh yeah, if you want to see where I am most of the time nowadays, I'm at Alternate History dot com as WienerBlut.**

**And Enjoy!**

Toothy pulls the sheet off of his brand new car. Cuddles, Nutty, and Flaky glare in amazement. A wonderful bright red '58 Plymouth Fury appeared from under the sheet. "You like?" Toothy smirked.

"It looks like a candy cane!" Nutty exclaims.

"I'll take that as a yes..." Toothy mutters, mulling over what Nutty had said.

"Can I drive her?" Cuddles squeals, bouncing up and down from excitement.

"Her?" Toothy asks, bewildered.

"Yeah, I can just tell that she is a 'Christine'. Yeah, it's one of those feeling I get." Cuddles scoffs proudly. Toothy snickers.

"It's official, you are Christine!" Toothy laughs sarcastically. Cuddles was less than happy at the remark. The car beeped as well, and everyone glared at it.

Flaky gulps some air, and points shakily at the Red Automobile. "You did that, right Toothy?" she asks fretfully.

"Flaky, there's nothing to worry about, This car is older than most of our parents. It obviously has some faulty wiring, nothing to worry about!" Toothy assures the frightened porcupine. "But, since she is in my hands now, I won't let anything else happen to her!"

Suddenly one of the lamps above their heads falls on Christine's cabin, crushing everything inside. With a unanimous gasp, the four fall silent, save the soft whimpering coming from Toothy. Cuddles begins ushering himself and the other two outside, thinking aloud, "I think we should leave our beaver friend in peace."

...

Disco jabs at his head of hair with a comb, puffing it up. "Ready to take my pic, honey?" Disco growls seductively at Petunia. Petunia scowls at Disco through slitted eyes. He tosses his head back, and his Afro, momentarily, the hair stays frozen in it's original position, before following his head backwards. With a brilliant flash, the pose was frozen, and it slowly rolled from the front of the camera.

Disco quickly ducks over and grabs the photograph, catching it between his fore finger and thumb before it hit the ground. He looks inquisitively into the photograph, picking every detail apart with his eyes.

"Groovy!" He smirks. "Check it out!"

"No." she grunts

"Fine, Honey, but I garantee you'll be begging for pics of me on my comeback tour." Petunia flips out her phone.

"Hello, Security, I'm being harrassed by Pedobear." she paused, and somebody mumbled into the phone on the other end of the line. "Thanks Tod!"

Disco turns to behold a larger Lion standing behind him. "You has no chance, Pedobear."

...

Sniffles glares at Disco Bear sitting on the curb, sulking. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"I guess so, although a bunch of lions beat the shit out of me outside the mall." He moans as if Sniffles wasn't there.

"Sorry to hear, but you look fine." Sniffles examines.

Disco bear suddenly perks up, whips a photo out of his pocket.

"I got a picture of myself today! You wanna see? Here it is!" He blurts out.

"Was this after the beating or was your little BDSM fetish to much for you to handle?" Sniffles asks sarcastically. His humour was lost on Disco. When Disco turned the photo, he saw a bloody, black and blue version of himself.

Toothy walks up from behind Disco, peering over the bear's should at the picture. "Disco, that's exactly why I discourage BDSM. Although I like their leather."

"I took this picture half an hour ago. And I am not into BDSM." Disco explains to the purple beaver.

"Than you need to sue your photographer." Toothy suggests with a wave of his finger.

"How long were you in Zweistadt, Toothy? You've turned into a Hyperactively Conservative Communist." Sniffles asks.

"Where the hell did you pull that mouthful from?" Disco asks.

"It's written above his head in bright letters, can't you see them?" Sniffles grunts. It was not evident whether it was his dry humour or a serious thing.

"Well then..." Disco says, rolling his eyes. The Three reexamine the picture. Toothy then grabs a chunk of Disco's Afro, and tears it out of his scalp. The Bear flinches, but the chunk removed by Toothy is hastily replaced by a replica of the original. In the picture, the Chunk of hair ripped out was evident on the Disco Bear of that reality.

"Wierd." comes a voice from behind them. It was Scott Winters. He never appeared at any major events around town, and was hence rarely seen by a lot of the citizens. This was ironic, considering he was a reporter for the Acorn times. He flicks his bangs away from his eyes with his hand. His Skull necklace jangled in the breeze. "So this is Disco Bear with a BDSM Fetish?"

"I'M NOT INTO BDSM!" Disco explodes.

"Alright. Either way, I'm doing a story on an eccentric guy who just came into town. See y'all later." Scott says with a devious smile. He walks a few moments, before he runs smack dab into a red Plymouth Fury. "Toothy, what the hell is you car doing in the middle of the path?"

"Why the hell didn't you look both ways before crossing the street?" Toothy barks mockingly.

"It's a sidewalk, Toothy." Scott retorts.

**Well, it's a short chapter, but I really need to update this. If your OC is not used in the next chapter, don't sweat.**

**Until next chapter,**

**Deadliving - Hinzufügen Vielfalt zu Wiener Blut!  
**


	3. Vaunchatis Scatalipit

**It's a new Chapter, say horray Like Snagglepuss, in the '50s, even!**

Scott sat in a dark smoky room. The Man he was supposed to interview was supposed to be here by now. He did say he was pretty far away, up in Dublin and Paris, but this was late even for a Parisian. DAMN YOU RIRA IEDs!

Scott surveys the dark room. The door was to the right, partially off hinge. There were no windows, only a vent in the floor adjacent to the backwards door. The Stool Scott sat on was certainly not the morbid, foodstained couch. Cigarette smoke hung low in the air, rippling across the air in the room. Each breath Scott took left a visible trail in the air. He stands up, and walks to the door.

Forcing it open, he takes a fresh breath of air, only to cough out a puff of smoke. His eyes adjust to the sunlight, as he walks forward. He tells him to stop in midstride. Walking without looking was a bad habit of his. His now finely tuned eyes now scan the world ahead. There was the park, with River calmly meditating, and Niki talking to her, The Road bisecting the park, where Toothy was waxing his car, and some pigeons ready to piss off Toothy. The bright Blue sky showed only a hint of the coming night. He saw Gryffin flexing her wings on her porch. Scott walks up to the fence seperating their respective properties.

"Hey, Gryffin. Have you heard word on a man named Griffin?" He asks. He strains to look at her for the glare coming off her white fur and robe.

She gives him and odd stare and shakes her head. "Never heard of anyone besides me named Griffin or Gryffin."

Scott nods. "Thanks anyway." He pauses for a moment looking away from the blinding gleam, "You ever think of wearing a color other than white?"

Gryffin just smiled, and flapped her massive wings, flying away.

"Angels and their frickin dress codes." He says to himself.

* * *

Sniffles was oddly more confident as he read the Lucifer principle further. He now knew how people works as a societal machine.

But now he could see their societal status...

Take Disco Bear for example. When Sniffles laid his eyes upon the washed up superstar, he saw in bright letters above the man's head; Disco Bear/Useless in societal terms/The Superorganism comands you to kill him. NOW.

It was worse for his othe friends: He now knew Cuddles was a socialist who was going to be terminated when The People's Republic of Watership Down fell, Pop would kill for the Catholic Church, and River was nuetral in most subjects and very pacifistic despite the blades sprouting from her wrists. Not that is was BAD, it was just more or less disconcerting to be friends with a 'Commie' or 'Christian Matyr'.

"HEYO SNIFFLES!" comes Nutty's shrill voice interrupting the Philosipher's thought.

Handy, Russell, and Nutty come walking up from behind, startling the blue anteater. He adjusts his glasses. "Hello, Handy. Hello Russell. Nutty..." the Squirrel twitches, and the 'Chauvanistic Capitalist' floating above his head flickers with the squirrel.

"Yar, You done yar book yet, Lad? _'The Regulars' _was magnificent, 'though thar scurvy author was a dick for killing the gay guy. Yar." Russell growls in his Key West Drawl. 'Gay Rights Activist' flashed above his head.

"Russell, _'The Regulars' _was a comic, not a book." Handy observes.

"Yar t'was a good comic anyway, yar." Russell retorts.

"My penis tastes like a lollipop!" Nutty spats. 'Autofellater' is quickly added to the 'Chauvanistic Capitolist'.

"No, Russell, I am not done The Lucifer Principle!" Sniffles says in disgust at the words floating above the pirate's head.

"Yar 's there some'en wrong?" Russell asks.

"No, nothing at all." Sniffles lied through his teeth.

Yar, see you later..." Russell says, waryly pulling away from Sniffles. The Three walk away, Nutty again chirping about his adventures in Autofellatio.

Sniffles's eyes turned to slits, glaring daggers at the three.

**Sorry for short Choppy chapters, but I NEED to get these Ideas out.**


	4. Densmod Djaze

**FYI The Author's notes wars in 'Role of the Dice' was partially Sean's idea.**

**But don't expect it too often.**

**From what the plot I have written up tells me, some of your OCs will be in a subplot in the story.**

Scott walks back into the room, which had warmed up a bit. He sits himself upon the stool, scribbling a doodle of a mask. It had empty pits as eyes, with the last smoldering embers of a bonfire in place of pupils. Along the line of symmetry of the face below the eyes, was a mouth turned vertically. From the chin to the top of the head, was a brown slab of wood with the edges culminating in curved blades.

Suddenly, he could here a _rat-atat-tat_ on the ventilation shaft walls. He glances over at the vent. A tiny glow eminated from deep within. He sets his writing pad aside, getting upon his knees and peering inside the Ventilation shaft.

From out of the light appeared his cellphone. It had disappeared after his run in with Disco bear, and he suspected if it hadn't fallen into a storm drain, Klepto Fedora and Lackie took it. But there it was.

"Scott Winters" called a voice from the vent. "Do you want your phone?"

In the Vent apparated a wolf-clown. "Wanna come play with me? A Game?"

"Parcheesi?" Scott asks sardonicly.

"NO! I mean like er... Balloon Animals?" he retorts.

"Lemme guest, next you're gonna be harrassing a little girl, begging her to play doctor." Scott spits. The Wolve's arm fired like a grappling hook, smashing through the Vent covering, wrapping a furry paw around Scott's neck. "I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL, CHILD. WE'RE YOU THE ASS THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO INTERVIEW ME!"

A Lump rises in his throat, and he cheeps, "Are you Mr. Pennywise?"

In a tone of voice totally contrary to the voice not even a minute ago, he says "Why yes, I am Griffin Pennywise. How are you doing today, sir?"

Scott wanted to laugh, but only uttered a cough. "You want to come into my worksop, I can't interview you in a vent."

"But you can certainly interview me in my place, it's much more spacious than your dank dwellings." Pennywise says.

Scott's eyes widen like saucers. "Where is your place?" The Arm once again lashes out, grabbing Scott's face pulling him into the vent.

* * *

DJ straightened his tie and dusted some lint of his suit. His usual attire was composed of purple an black 'street clothes' as his rich father would say. But he was on Business.

The Business in question was the dilapidated house at the corner of Mondo and Fatkat, the Matthew L. Saunders House. The house was in serious disrepair, the wooden walls appearing to sag like a fat man's stomach, and painted peeled off in strips. Many shingles were missing from the roof, now lay jutting from the yellow stalks of grass. The Quaint old windows had splintering cracks upon their panes. Upon a wind Vane, PigeonJesus was incarnated in black twisted iron. He glared with painted red eyes upon anyone entering the house.

There weren't many visitors to be intimidated by PigeonJesus's gaze. Everybody 'knew' the house was haunted by the spirits of the people who either disappeared or died in the house. A lot of people disappeared or died:

**1) **Three Construction workers perished upon building the house.

**2) **Bearkisses Disappeared February 4th,

**3) **Roxius leapt from the roof into her child's birthday party on february 10th, after a bad session in Court.

**4) **The Servant, Adder of The Pit, disappeared after sacrificing herself to Cthullu.

**5) **Finally, Matthew L Saunders shot himself on August 26, scribbling on his face 'dklfjdlksfj' before perishing.

DJ had been called in by his dad's friends' daughter, Flora, who was thinking of flipping the property over to a Satan Worshipper. Why he did not know. There was supposed to be one more evaluation of the house while it remained standing. Handy and 'The River' were also called in. Sniffles would've been choosen in place of DJ if it weren't for his habit of overcomplicating simple phrases.

Flora stood smiling at the door, beckoning DJ. She resembled, atleast superficially Petunia: But she was a fox, with spiked up headfur. She had a toothy smile on, as if to both threaten and greet her visitors.

"Welcome to The Matthew L Saunders House." she says in a falsetto voice.

"No need to sound so cheery, entering a place of Author's death." DJ snarked.

"I need to comfort myself in this house. I've seen pretty creepy digs as a popstar, but this blows all the others outta the water. And I don't feel Cheery." she barks, in a polar opposite tone.

He walks in to see a just as dilapidated, moldy, ugly livingroom. It was such a tragedy this place was goin to waste. Set up in the middle of the room was a plastic lawn table, with four plastic lawn one seat sat Handy, in the other, sat, or rather meditated, a Tan fox with purple jewelry of sorts. The River, as the tan fox was called, hovered less than an inch above the chair. Handy was watching in amazement.

There was a kettle of tea and four cups sitting upon a plastic tray. The Kettle was warm, but not steaming, and DJ poured himself a cup. He cradles it in his hand for a moment. Flora sits next to Handy, pouring herself a cup of tea.

DJ looks around. "So it's dank and creepy, but how exactly are you convinced the Devil is involved?" He asks sardonically, almost snickering at the blank faces of his peers. He sets his cup of tea on the cobweb covered coffee table off to the side.

A Knife comes from nowhere, slicing DJ's goggles in half, and jamming itself hilt-deep into the wall. An Angry British Teenager shouts at DJ "THAT IS BRAZILIAN WALNUT! USE A COASTER, DICK!"

** If you do not know who Matthew L Saunders is, then you don't know HTF Fanfiction. Try 'SadlittleHTFfan' or 'CaveatCartoonShows' if you really don't know.**

**Good Luck to you, Leader among Authors.**


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